ny a day he had not trod
the path where he was now carried in great pain and fear, for the poison
turned his blood to fire. Little hope he had, for he knew how cruelly he
had deserted OEnone, and he saw that all the birds which were disturbed
in the wood flew away to the left hand, an omen of evil.

At last the bearers reached the cave where the nymph OEnone lived, and
they smelled the sweet fragrance of the cedar fire that burned on the
floor of the cave, and they heard the nymph singing a melancholy song.
Then Paris called to her in the voice which she had once loved to hear,
and she grew very pale, and rose up, saying to herself, "The day has come
for which I have prayed. He is sore hurt, and has come to bid me heal
his wound." So she came and stood in the doorway of the dark cave, white
against the darkness, and the bearers laid Paris on the litter at the
feet of OEnone, and he stretched forth his hands to touch her knees, as
was the manner of suppliants. But she drew back and gathered her robe
about her, that he might not touch it with his hands.

Then he said: "Lady, despise me not, and hate me not, for my pain is more
than I can bear. Truly it was by no will of mine that I left you lonely
here, for the Fates that no man may escape led me to Helen. Would that I
had died in your arms before I saw her face! But now I beseech you in
the name of the Gods, and for the memory of our love, that you will have
pity on me and heal my hurt, and not refuse your grace and let me die
here at your feet."

Then OEnone answered scornfully: "Why have you come here to me? Surely
for years you have not come this way, where the path was once worn with
your feet. But long ago you left me lonely and lamenting, for the love
of Helen of the fair hands. Surely she is much more beautiful than the
love of your youth, and far more able to help you, for men say that she
can never know old age and death. Go home to Helen and let her take away
your pain."

Thus OEnone spoke, and went within the cave, where she threw herself down
among the ashes of the hearth and sobbed for anger and sorrow. In a
little while she rose and went to the door of the cave, thinking that
Paris had not been borne away back to Troy, but she found him not; for
his bearers had carried him by another path, till he died beneath the
boughs of the oak trees. Then his bearers carried him swiftly down to
Troy, where his mother bewailed him, and Helen sang over hi